


Birth of a Weapon

by Belbe



Category: Devil May Cry, Devil May Cry 5 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Capcom - Freeform, Comfort, DMC5, Demon, Demons, DmC - Freeform, Fanfic, Fear, Guardians - Freeform, Loneliness, Origin Story, Other, Pain, Poetry, Rebirth, Ritual, Struggle, Summons, Vitale, William Blake - Freeform, i don't know what to put here either dude, poem, split personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:25:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belbe/pseuds/Belbe
Summary: Origin story of V from DMC5 that I started and I since know isn't valid anymore (I spoiled myself a bit when it comes to the game - still don't know everything but... Enough)I still wanted to finish it because I thought it was pretty good. I hope you'll let me know what you think of it!I really love V's character. I'm certain he'll be a fan favorite long after the game has come out <3A big thanks to Harley for helping with this text, I would've missed so many mistakes without you!





	Birth of a Weapon

The first thing it saw was light. Orbs and threads of red and white light wove flickering strands in the air, illuminating the new being’s environment. It didn’t know what to do with what it saw - chaos came to its sight, wherever it looked.

_“Welcome.”_

The deep voice echoed from all sides, but it couldn’t detect where it came from. Words formed in its mind, and it realized it was alive. It could feel, think, and move.

" _You will have questions, but we don’t have time. Ask me one thing, then you must go.”_

It felt the urgency behind the calm voice and thought, using its rapidly growing consciousness to pick the most pressing question.

_“What am I?”_

The voice paused, then slowly answered.

_“By killing part of myself, I gave vitality to you. I have no name for you. Feel free to choose one yourself.”_

It heard the words, but didn’t fully understand them yet.

_“Vi-tal-e-...?”_

_“There is not time. You will know where to go, and who to ask for help. You will know what to do, because your mind is mine, too. Now leave. Hurry.”_

It thought about how to move, and saw its body when it twitched. Pale, slender limbs stretched out below it, and it blinked its eyes in curiosity. With a command of its thoughts, it managed to spread its fingers. Then it stood up, and learned to walk in a matter of seconds. It knew it had done so before, but it had no memory of what “before” was.

The direction was clear, even though it didn’t know how it was that way. With each step under its bare feet, it felt itself further tearing apart from “before”. It did not look back until the lights went out, and the air changed. It saw strange shapes up there. _Clouds_. Underneath, there were dark, spiky structures. _Trees_.  
Everywhere it looked, it saw new things, and it knew their name. Further ahead, it saw a giant orb slowly rise - _the Sun._

The first day of its life had started. And it knew it didn’t have many before it would die again.

____________________________________________________

“Hello, young man,” the human said.

“Young man?”

It thought about that. So it - no, _he_ \- was a man. And young, that he knew. He was exactly one day old now. He had walked through the day, the night, and then the morning again, until it reached the city. It had learned what _cold_ was, too, and learned how _clothes_ helped to make the _cold_ go away. It also knew _stealing_ was wrong, but that it could get in more trouble if it didn’t dress.

“Yes, you, young man,” the older woman laughed uncomfortably.

“You seem a little lost, are you? We don’t get many tourists here, and it looks like you don’t know your way around here. Do you need help?”

He thought about this shortly and then returned his attention to the woman.

“I’m looking for a witch. Or someone that can wield magic.”

____________________________________________________

 

He was exactly four days old by now. In that time, he had learned to _read_ , and had studied several books since.  
His favorite was a small volume by the hand of a poet long gone, whose verses seemed very fitting for his own situation. He studied them over and over again, drinking in the dramatic poems as if they were the water of life.

The mages that took him in recognized his purpose and prepared him for a trial of strength - not physical strength, of which he was lacking, but of mental fortitude. A guardian would be bound to him, through his blood and body. That is, if he succeeded the trial. All he could do was prepare, increase the prowess of his child-like mind and adult memories.

Soon, it was time. He was brought to the central hall of the mage’s church, and they explained the steps of the ritual to him.  
As a last measure, he was bound to his seat.

“Are you sure you want to choose this guardian? He’s a feisty one, according to the tales,” one worried mage uttered.

“All the better. I can’t wait to meet him,” he gritted, grimacing against how tight his bounds were pulled, biting in his lean flesh.

“So be it.”

The words resounded through the hall, and then all fell quiet.

Of the ritual itself, he chose to keep silence afterwards. What but pity lay in tales of pain and terror?  
No, then he rather spoke about how the first sharp wing beats echoed through the hall, and how two pitch-black eyes stared back at him when a huge bird with a clever poise landed on his knee. They exchanged words, and the guardian accepted him. With an exercised grace, the creature rose up from his knee and shattered in the air, after which it sank into his new pupil’s skin.    
It was after that one of the mages told him that the guardian had been rather rude, but he just smiled. What did it matter? 

____________________________________________________

The second guardian was a compulsory choice; the bird was fast, but barely provided him protection. He needed something that would keep him at bay, a sword that would strike at the enemy where needed. As soon as he saw illustrations of the Shadow, he knew it was the right choice for him. The ruby eyes that stared back from the darkness on the page called out to him, spoke of power and legerity.

Of this ritual, too, he chose to stay silent. He pensively stroked his new tattoo where the bird rested under his skin, perched on his back and arms.

Griffon, his eyes in the sky.

Then he was bound again, and after the trial was over and sweat pearled down his temples, a subdued roar came from the main entrance. A dark shape slithered under the fortified door, then rose from the floor into a feline shape that seemed to absorb all light around it. With a velvet gait, it continued its approach to the place where he sat. The spirit of this Shadow was kinder than the bird, but turmoil and an unspoken ferocity emanated from its presence.  
No words were needed between them: Shadow understood, and would follow, as he saw a kindred spirit in him. Their merging felt as if a cloak slithered over his bare arms. Smoky tendrils welled up on his arms and chest, not unlike those of a jaguar. Shadow’s calm presence was added to his mind, and for the first time in days, he felt more secure about his mission.

Even though it drained him, he liked summoning both his guardians the next few days, to strengthen their bond and tactics. Both proved to be terrifying presences on a possible battlefield.  
He smiled by himself, burying himself in more studies, more books, while Griffon watched from close by, acting as if it wasn’t interested, and Shadow rested its massive head on his lap and let itself be pet.

____________________________________________________

The third and last guardian almost killed him. Unlike the other two guardians, it didn’t come through the door nor a window. It came through the roof instead, almost killing the bystanding mages that were straining to call upon it from another dimension. Himself, he couldn’t move, as the pain had paralyzed him. Debris rained down in the hall, crashing down on the mages, while a dark, massive shape on the roof tried to wrestle its way through the stone ceiling. One of the granite shards above his head smashed down straight in front of him and roughly grazed his knee. He yelled out in pain, but no one would help him - all had fled in terror, save for the Nightmare above them. The ground rumbled as if an earthquake started when the creature slammed down in the hall, the marble floor shattering where its huge feet landed.

Its mind was silent, save for the most basic of thoughts.  _Walk_ , and _fight_ were among the words it knew. Limited as its vocal abilities were, the greater was the promise of brute power that coursed through its body.  
He strained but worked himself up in his bonds, forcing his mind to the Nightmare, compelling the giant to side with him and join his cause. It paused, becoming a statue with fire-carrying veins.  
It took him a long time, but finally, the Nightmare bowed its head and dissolved, disappearing into his body and spreading a warmth through his limbs. His last and strongest guardian burned like a fire in his chest, on which traces of eyes and a dark mass appeared.

With his three allies bound to him, his trials had come to an end. The mages seemed terrorstruck when he approached them, unsure about how to proceed after they’d seen how his nimble body had absorbed the massive demon. He assured them he meant no harm, and they bid him to leave, offering him a cane to walk with and anything else he wished for, as long as he left them alone.  
He took just one other thing with him: the book with the letter “V” on it, of the poet long gone but not forgotten.

His step had become a limp, his knee partly destroyed where the boulder had hit him. It was but a small price to pay. With his current power, very few demons would be a match for him, and he wouldn’t be refused the company of the next person he went in search for. His guardians aided him, carrying him swiftly through the land until he reached the city he searched for.

Outside of it, massive vines with thorns the size of human heads had sprouted, and in the center of the city, a giant tree was growing. He could sense the evil presence at this distance and gritted his teeth. His mission was near, and the people he looked for were even closer. His feet started moving by themselves. He didn’t need to ask the way - he _knew_ , as if he had been here before. In a different time, as a different being.

He stopped in front of a neon-lit house, the front door bearing several footprints and other signs of abuse. He lifted a sardonic eyebrow, and smiled at a remark Griffon shouted through his mind. A knock on the door got a rough, low voice as an answer.

“Door’s open, come on in.”

Inside, he found the man he was looking for. He was confused when he saw his face, as if he was looking at his past and present at the same time. He didn’t let any of his inner turmoil show on his face.  
Instead, he offered his help against the demon invasion, and when he was asked for his name, he said but a single thing:  

 

**“You can call me V.”**

 


End file.
